Dating Games(2)

Then I met Trevor.

Handsome.

Intelligent.

Mature.

I thought this was it. He was it. The person I was meant to be with. My Bogart, my Grant, my Gable.

“Please, Evie,” he implores. My stare only becomes more harsh as I recall everything I’ve done for him, everything I’ve sacrificed for him...just so he can walk away after twelve years. “You have to understand how difficult this is for me.”

“For you?” I blink repeatedly. “You think this is only difficult for...you?”

He glances over his shoulder, anxious about anyone overhearing. If he wanted to avoid a scene, he should have considered that before breaking up with me in public. The restaurant isn’t too busy yet, considering it’s only a little after five. I’d originally thought it odd he asked me to meet him for dinner so early, but I figured he wanted to devote as much time as he could to celebrate my birthday.

Apparently, he forgot about that, too.

“I gave you over a decade of my life, Trevor. I did everything to support you, to make you happy, to make this relationship work. I sacrificed my own dreams so you could pursue yours. I worked two jobs while you went to law school so you wouldn’t have to worry about working and could focus on your studies. I’ve done everything for you. Every decision I’ve made over the past twelve years has been for you, for us.”

“But that’s the thing...” He blows out a breath, running a hand through his dark hair. “We started dating when we were eighteen, too young to experience life.”

“We’ve experienced life. Together.” I reach across the table and cover his hand with mine. The familiar warmth of his smooth skin comforts me. But it’s fleeting. Too soon, he pulls his hand away. The corner of his mouth twitches, a nervous tick I’ve grown accustomed to over the years.

“We’re not the same people anymore.”

“People change all the time. It’s part of being in a relationship. We all grow, regardless of how long we’re together. The important thing is that you love the person you’re with. I loved you back then. I still love you now. And I know you love me. That’s why this is so hard for you. Because you know you’re making a mistake.”

He shakes his head, slowly, deliberately. “I’m not, Evie. We’ve grown apart. We no longer want the same things.”

“All I want is you,” I say, grasping at straws.

Standing, he re-secures the button on his suit jacket. Then he retrieves his wallet, throwing several bills onto the table to cover the tab. At least he didn’t break up with me and expect me to pick up the check.

“But I no longer want you. I need to think about my future. I work for one of the top firms in the state, if not the country. If I want to be taken seriously for partner, I need to consider the type of woman they’d want me to be with.”

His words are like a knife to the heart, yet he manages to hold his head high, acting as if he hadn’t inferred he was choosing his job over me.

“And you don’t think they’ll take you seriously dating me.” The truth leaves a sour taste in my mouth, one even the aroma of ginger in the air can’t alleviate.

“Can you blame me, Evie? This is a very conservative firm with a client list that includes direct descendants of the Vanderbilt’s, Rockefeller’s, and Kennedy’s…to name a few.” He lowers his head, avoiding my gaze. “Didn’t you ever wonder why I never asked you to come to any of the firm’s events?” He glances up, chewing on his lower lip. “I can’t exactly tell them what you do for a living, not when it entails doling out ridiculous dating advice or recommending vibrators.”

I blanch, my mouth growing slack, my eyes wide. “You always knew I wanted to be a writer. I was an English major when we met. The fact I’m doing what I set out to do shouldn’t come as a huge shock to you, Trevor.”

“It’s not. It’s what you’re writing. You were one of the few girls I’d met who seemed to know precisely what she wanted and had a plan to achieve it. I knew you wanted to work in the magazine industry. I thought you’d want to do more than pen fluff pieces about how a woman could tell if a guy’s really into her. Maybe your parents are right. Maybe you’d be better off if you got your teaching certificate. Then you’d have a more respectable profession.”

He holds my gaze for a moment longer, then steps back. “You can stay in the apartment until you find a place of your own. I’ll be working long hours over the next month anyway. I’ll sleep on the couch for the time being. You’ll barely notice I’m even there.”

“You’re kicking me out?” I practically screech.

“Don’t say it like that. Technically, it is my place. I pay the mortgage. My name’s on the title. But there’s no rush. We can be roommates until you’re able to find your own place.”

“Roommates?” I ask, still unable to wrap my head around this.

“I don’t want this to ruin our friendship. We started out as friends. I hope that doesn’t change.”

I shake my head, at a complete loss for words. How can we be friends after this? I’m pretty sure we crossed that line, oh, about eleven years ago when he told me he couldn’t imagine his life without me. I still can’t imagine my life without him. Why did he suddenly change his mind?